you are the star of your life, making
your way along the path—it lies broad
before you, no obstacles in sight
until suddenly, without warning, a hedge
sprouts, blocking your progress
it has pretty yellow flowers, but is armed
with three-inch thorns—you bleed
but push through, only to find a canyon
that opens at your feet, no bridge in sight
you struggle to the bottom, rolling part-way
the climb ahead a near-sheer cliff
few hand-holds visible, yet you rise
to face an angry foe above, who claims
that you have no right to be there
—thus it is, too often for your liking
to be a woman in the world of work
what could possibly go wrong, you think
—everything—but you prevail regardless
ignoring those who would block your path
it’s your life, after all, and you are the star
Adrienne Stevenson lives in Ottawa, Canada. A retired forensic scientist, she writes poetry and prose. Her work has appeared in over fifty print and online journals and anthologies in Canada, USA, UK, Europe, India, and Australia. When not writing, Adrienne tends a large garden, reads voraciously, and procrastinates playing several musical instruments.